As the procreator of three fabulous kids, who have all inherited my flare for the dramatic, I am either hysterically laughing, or operating in various modes of crisis control. Alfred Hitchcock once said that "drama is life, with the dull bits cut out", to which I reply - 'Where are the dull bits'?

Friday, January 25, 2008

In the past seven years, we have moved from Utah to California, within California, back to Utah, and now to Virginia. That is five locations for anyone who was counting. Yesterday I was thinking about our nomadic tendencies and realized that though we have met many fantastic people in each location, and learned many great things from our experiences, each move has one crummy thing in common. With each uprooting I have lost my support network, and upon arrival in a new location, it takes time to develop a new one.

I was thinking about this yesterday because I had the flu. It was not a mild case. It was an entirely disabling-Exorcist like-can I even crawl into the bathroom before I loose it- kind of case. (Though still coming in second to a certain airplane bathroom incident.) So as I lay on the bathroom floor, lacking energy to crawl back to bed after cleaning the commode - again - wishing that the Hub was not out of town - again- I started to feel sorry for myself. I missed my friends who I could call at a moments notice to come and get my kids. I missed my mom and sisters, who would have cleaned my bathroom for me, taken the kids for the night, or even stayed to keep me company in my commiserative state.

I haven't been here long enough to develop that kind of a network. The kind that I can rely on for anything. I thought of a few people I could call, that would have probably helped, but I didn't have the energy to go downstairs and find the ward directory. So I just felt more sorry for myself, that I don't know anyone well enough to have their phone number memorized.

I also felt sorry for Z, who had eaten a half a loaf of bread (his sustenance of choice when I feebly told him to find something to eat) and watched ScoobyDoo all day long, though he wasn't complaining. When A and N finally got home from school I was in bad shape, wishing that I could send them all somewhere, tearfully missing my network.

And guess what? As soon as they realized that I was sick my children magically metamorphasized from my usually needy, often whiny, occasionally screaming pack of three to my own little network of support. I suddenly had three little mother hen's checking in on me, bringing me water (which I promptly threw up), feeling my forehead, and smoothing my blankets. I should note that N and A did most of the 'work' while Z lurked in the background saying "don't touch me with your sick germs." To hit credit, he is only 4 - and has inherited his father's germ-o-phobia.

And so - I tell you this tale - not to gain your sympathy - but to tell you about my great network of support. A ended up at a friends house for the evening, so N poured he and Z a bowl of cold cereal for dinner - AND he put the dishes in the washer. He supervised teeth brushing (which surely was done within the range of poor to mediocre, but I let it go for one night). He brought Z into my room for prayers, offered to say them, and prayed fervently that I would feel better. He read Z a book, tucked him into bed, then went to bed himself. When A got home, she locked up the house, cleaned the kids bathroom sink (a task often necessary after the boys brush their teeth), came to my room for her prayers (more fervent requests for my restored health), and put herself to bed.

Today, I am feeling better, not 100%, but I can tell that there is hope. And I am sure that before long I will be refereeing a screaming match between two of the three kids, reminding them to use their 'nice words and nice voices', and repeatedly uttering a combination of the phrases - 'stop it' - 'knock it off' - or 'how about we all spend a quiet hour in our separate rooms'. Some of them will cry, all of them will whine, no one will do what I ask until I threaten punishment and feel like pulling my hair out at the roots....but they can't fool me anymore.

I know their true nature. When push comes to shove - they are my support network. And that won't change - no matter how many times we move.

I totally wish that I had a network like that. Although I have not moved as many times as you, I often feel the same way. I just cried as I read your posting because I wouldn't even have the help of three kids. I guess I have just learned to be independent because it seems that is what I have to do to survive!